


Blind Items

by azephirin



Series: Born a Girl [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cleaning, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Olympics, Paparazzi, World Wide Web, girl!Johnny Weir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because there's no press allowed doesn't mean it won't end up on TMZ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Items

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same 'verse as [All Four Bodies of the Sky Burn Above Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/74503) and [Slow Boats and False Starts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/80873), set a short time after the latter. Please don't throw logic at me regarding anything in this story; if it's not already obvious, pinpoint accuracy is not the crowning achievement of this 'verse. Thanks to my flist for not summarily defriending me for writing this stuff.

_February 2010_

"Joey," Justine said, and unplugged her laptop, "you should probably take a look at this."

Joey didn't leave her perch on the counter. She'd just scrubbed the insides of the cabinets with Dr. Bronner's, and now it was time to wipe them down with Lemon Pledge and put the dishes back. Then she'd move on to the pantry. "If it's something else about how I was under-scored, I don't even care. I've heard it a thousand times by now and it doesn't change anything."

"It's not that." Justine's tone was unreadable: a little amused, but also a little tight. "Tara's probably going to call you about it, so you might as well go ahead and see now."

"Oh, Jesus," Joey said, and took off her gloves. She jumped off the counter and walked into the living room, where Justine turned the computer so that Joey could see the screen. The red and black logo was unmistakable, and Joey sighed. "It's TMZ, Justine. Whatever they're saying about me this time—"

Then she saw the image, and stopped midsentence.

The quality wasn't the greatest, but the picture was clear enough of the café in the Vancouver Olympic Village. And of Joey in her oversized shirt, in Stéphane's lap, with his fingers twisted in her hair and her hands cupping his face as they kissed.

If she hadn't been looking at a picture of herself, it would have been pretty hot.

"It wasn't me," Joey informed Justine.

Justine snorted. "Right. And that's not your shirt and Stéphane's crazy hair. So why didn't you tell me you Frenched him in front of the entire Olympic Village?"

"_Frenched_? What are you, twelve?"

"And I repeat: Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think I had to report every time I kissed my boyfriend."

"Oh, so he's your boyfriend now? What happened to 'it's not like that' and 'we're just friends' and 'he's like a brother to me'?"

"You know that was never true."

"Sure, _I_ knew," Justine said. "But they"—she gestured at the computer, presumably to imply _everybody in the café_ and _whoever took that picture_ and _the entire Internet_ and _most of the civilized world_—"didn't."

"Well," Joey said, "now they do."

+||+||+

 

  
**Epilogue**   
_March 2010_   


 

**Blind item, TMZ.com:** What cool-as-ice intercontinental lovers had an intimate after-hours reunion against the boards of the arena where crowds cheered them like royalty the next day?


End file.
